Heroes of Darkness

XXIX

HECTOR

The candles cast dancing shadows about the walls of the Commander's quarters. It was growing late in Brandon Brightflame's war counsel. Hector brushed his scruffy chin with his scarred left hand, he hadn't shaved in days, much less had a good night's rest in the weeks they had set up camp in Meteor Falls. The scouts had trickled back from the outskirts of Lavaridge and the shadow of Mt. Chimney. Just as soon as they had delivered word, they were sent back out again to gather new information.

"She knows we'll be coming for the city," Hector added. "My squad leaders have been able to take village after village, untouched. There are no Imperial Forces or House Starfall servicemen in the entire region. It seems you've conquered nearly your entire ancestral lands with but one major fight." Brandon Brightflame did not look pleased at that, and Hector knew why.

"Aye. My men tell the same tale. The girl shows tact and a mind for strategy," an Odaran captain muttered.

"Just like her uncle," Brandon muttered. "She's withdrawn all her forces into the mountain. This Cassandra Starfall may be young, but she is wise beyond her years. Our men are professional fighters. The Pokemon we've brought with us are battle hardened." He pointed to the picture on the map on the table of the tall volcano that was Mt. Chimney. "She dares not face us in open battle, as it would be suicide, so she conserves her armies in Lavardige, in the shadow of the mountain... If we attempt a siege, all she has to do is harass us from the sky with her Altaria and other Flying Pokemon while she waits for the Sea Bitch to drown us with superior numbers."

A rash, young Odaran admiral slammed his fist on the table. "Then why waste time with a siege, let us take the city."

Brandon looked at the green military man like he would look at a fool who, instead of telling a joke, had insulted one's family. "Lavaridge is my home. It's where I was bred and born, where I grew up, where I learned Warcraft. Lavaridge is impregnable. Marching an army up the sheer black cliffs of rock to the city is certain suicide. Many would-be conquers have tried, this girl's ancestors being among them, and they all have failed." Brandon eyed Hector. "But there is one way in."

The sewers, Hector remembered. It had been seventeen years, but Hector would never forget making his way through the black winding tunnels under the city into the waste that was the jagged pass. They had escaped from the deepest dungeons, thanks to Brandon's young brother... Hector had forgotten his name. He didn't bring up the boy, who would be a man now. If he was still alive, he thought. A young boy with a Torchic would be a sitting Psyduck for the Empress's forces. She had already wiped out the Forrests, he had heard, and Brandon was the last of the Brightflames. And the Marshes... The three great Kingdoms were all but stamped out.

"Excuse me, my friends, I am I needing of some fresh air," Hector lied to the war counsel. It was impossible to get fresh air in Meteor Falls. The place was one gigantic stuffy stone cavern. He made his way to the waterfall, whispering into the crystal clear pool in the heart of the settlement.

He remembered the intelligence his men had brought back to him. The Empress Glamour had divided her Kingdom into four provinces: The Northwest, the South, the Northeast, and the Eastern Sea. Each was ruled by a Lord Governor in turn: Cassandra Starfall was a young girl, the niece of the tyrant that had overthrown Brandon's own family; Lord Spector, who had turned cloak on the Forrests at the battle of the Green River; the Empress's own half-brother Ahab ruled the traditional Sootopolis Kingdom...

And lastly, Chris Marsh II controlled the Imperial Forces of the South. Hector's heart had skipped a beat when his spies brought him that name. He knew Chris was the son of Sarah Spark, the young lady his friend of the same name was promised to all those years ago... Why would the Empress allow him to live, when she had so painstakingly entrapped and attempted to kill Brandon Brightflame? Hector graced the scars on his left arm, that were left by the Sharpedo. They had only narrowly escaped on that vessel through the stormy seas to Odara, to safety. To Alicia, my love. Hector thought.